iPaint Our Story: A Collection of Creddie Drabbles
by PhunkyBrewster
Summary: When you decide to illustrate their love, make sure to use every color on the palette, just as they do. A colorful collection of Creddie drabbles and ficlets.
1. Brown

**Disclaimer: iDon't own iCarly.**

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"- eat your chocolate like that, Freddie?"

The question was so abrupt that I almost didn't register that she was talking to me. When I look up, I see her looking in my direction with a curious expression, milk carton held idly in her hand. Wait, what did she want to know about my chocolate?

She repeats, "Why do you eat your chocolate like that?"

Crap. Am I that obvious, or is she just watching me that closely? It would be nice if she was watching me, but I doubt it. I'm the one who watches her, not vice versa. Yes, I'm aware of how creepy that sounds, but I promise, it's not a stalker situation! She's my best friend. My gorgeous, funny, super sweet best friend.

This would be a good time to play dumb. Yeah, let's try that.

"Like what, Carly?"

"You unwrap it, stare at it for a while, smile, take a bite, look at it again, then eat the rest. It's funny because it takes you, like, three minutes to eat a piece of chocolate that would only take me five seconds!" She's giggling, which she does whenever she's teasing me, and it's seriously the cutest sound I've heard in my 14 years of existence.

"I don't know what you're talking about." I just lied. She's ridiculously observant and I'm an idiot for forgetting that about her. She shrugs.

"Maybe you just don't notice it, but you do it every time. It's interesting, that's all. It must be some amazing chocolate!"

She returns to her lunch, and I recognize that I've just dodged a major bullet. It would be way too embarrassing to tell her the truth.

The truth is: the dark chocolate is the same color as her eyes. Whenever I happen to look at it, it's like staring into her big, stunning brown eyes.

And sometimes when I'm staring at that petite square, I get lost in the beauty of it all.

Just like her eyes.


	2. Blue

**_Welcome to Creddietopia!_**

**_'Where the brightest stars are in her eyes.'_**

**_Population: 2_**

Carly arrived at the front door of the iCarly studio to find this blue sign attached to it. It resembled that of the road signs someone would encounter on the Interstate just as they reach the Seattle city limits. Carly's shock and confusion help her to forget her achingly tired feet and the fact that her uniform currently reeked of the Shrimp Loft's fried platter. The initial surprises allays after a moment and is followed by her laughter. Just as Freddie instructed via this afternoon's text, she had made sure to come straight to her Bushwell Plaza apartment after her late night shift, only stopping at the refrigerator to retrieve the first surprise, which was a meticulously packed picnic basket (which donned a crudely made, yet adorable, small cardboard hitchhiker's sign that read, "Creddietopia or Bust!"), then headed straight to the studio. Her curiosity now unbearable, she quickly opened the door.

Freddie stood in the middle of the studio, which was now decorated with inflated palm trees, beach balls, a small kiddie pool filled with water and plastic seahorses, and strings of blue and white party lights shaped like flip flops hung from the walls of the entire room. Surrounded by half a dozen large pillows and a pair of folded blankets, he stood with his arms outstretched, as if to be showing off the room in some big showcase, complete with a goofy smile plastered on his face. His flannel pajamas and fuzzy black slippers somehow added to the mirth of the mock beach paradise.

Carly's mouth remain agape as she padded into the studio. She set the picnic basket down and launched herself into Freddie's arms, the embrace almost knocking him off his feet. He chuckled as he held her to him, immensely grateful for the first physical contact their summer schedules have allowed them to have in almost two weeks. Her face pressed against the crook of his neck, she managed to find her voice.

"Creddietopia is amazing!"

"It should be," he replied. "You inspired it." He pulled back from their embrace to give her a gentle, lingering kiss on her lips. He reluctantly extracted himself in order to spread one of the blankets on the ground and position some of the pillows. He sits himself down and pats the space he's created next to him. Carly wastes no time and crawls into the space next to him, wrapping her arms around his torso as they lay against the pillows. Freddie proceeds to tell her fun facts about the "land," such as the official bird (the Not-So-Bald Eagle) and their national anthem ("Dude, Ur Freakin' Hott" by Ginger Fox), which amused her to no end. She looked up to find him gazing at her with the look he always gave her when he was just…content. It warmed her heart to know that she could bring that out in him, just as he did to her.

"So," Carly snuggled closer, "how did you come up with 'Creddietopia,' aside from trolling the forums on the iCarly site?"

He smiled, "Remember what you said three nights ago on the phone? You know, when work from my junior internship kept me from our movie night?"

Carly tried to recall the conversation. It had been pretty late in the evening and while she remembers being very disappointed, she can't place her exact words, so she's impressed that Freddie is able to remember.

"You said," he continued, "that you wished there was a place were we could get away from everything. You from your summer job, me from mine, where we can just be. Thus, welcome to Creddietopia. Our own little paradise."

Before she could stop it, a tear rolled down her cheek. Silliness aside, the sentiment was terribly sweet. She didn't know what to say, so she opted to lift her head and firmly kiss him instead. He brought a hand to her cheek, gently wiping the tear away. When they broke apart, he reached over her body to grab the big blue remote that they used for the show.

"Are you ready to see the second brightest stars in the land?" Freddie asked with a raised eyebrow. Before she could answer, he pressed a button on the remote and, immediately, the studio and party lights dimmed. Carly couldn't see what Freddie was talking about at first, but then she noticed the "twinkling' of a glow-in-the-dark star out of the corner of her eyes. She looked up at the ceiling and gasped.

Freddie had stuck what looked like a hundred glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling.

"Freddie," she barely managed to squeak out. "Freddie, this is so…oh, my God. I love this so much." She turned her head so that she was facing him once again. "And you. I love you very, very much."

* * *

To this day, that blue sign hangs over their bed as a reminder that they can always, _always_ escape.

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**A/N: Thanks for reading! An additional thanks to those who have already reviewed! Hope you take a moment to review, as well!**

**Hollaatchyagirl,**

**Phunky**


	3. Green

**Disclaimer: iDon't own iCarly.**

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Can I just say how completely and utterly JANK it is that I completed two projects for Green Week and STILL managed to get stuck with the Root and Berry trip while Sam jammed her thumb in an orange and got an A? Where's the justice? She should be the one wandering around the woods hunting down various bushes, not me! I'm tired, I'm bored, the mosquitoes have turned me into an All-You-Can-Eat buffet, and while I don't smell an odor, I feel like it stink.

_SMACK!_

Ah, just great! Another bite on the arm to add to the myriad of insect bites I've managed to collect in the short time out here. Damn you, Sam!

Oh, who am I kidding? I shouldn't be resentful of my best friend. It's not her fault Mr. Henning is a loon. If I had known that sticking a finger in some fruit and tossing it out the window would have gotten me out of this lame expedition, I would have done that to begin with. She was just a little quicker on her feet than I was. For once, her laziness worked in her favor and I really have no room to be a hater. Besides, at least Freddie's here to commiserate with me.

Well, there certainly isn't a point in dwelling on it now. I'm here in the woods spending my Saturday identifying flowers and wild fruit. I don't want to drift too far from the class's site, but the shallow outskirts of the woods don't seem to house any of the plants on this pamphlet. I look around. Everyone else seems to be willing to walk a little deeper into forest. Maybe I should just put on my brave face and go just a little farther in, right? What's the harm?

Hmmm…I distinctly remember seeing a few horror movies where the cute girl died just like this. Stop that, Carly! Don't think of that right now, just walk.

I think I've been walking for almost ten minutes now. Looking up at the sky, there's no inclination that the sun's going to come out any time soon. On the bright side (or _not_ so bright side…get it? Admit it, that was good!), at least it's not too hot. Even without the sun, the green leaves in the trees were still vibrant and the flowers blooming from the surrounding plants added a certain beauty to the scene around me. Being out here reminded me of the times my dad, Spencer, and I would go camping when I was little. My dad would hold my hand and point out some of the different birds to us. It was always so peaceful amongst the trees and the animals. Before I realize it, I'm sitting on the nearest log, completely at ease with the nature around me. Even the earthy smell of the dirt brings about great memories and I feel so much more serene then I did a few minutes ago.

I wish Freddie were here with me.

…I have no idea where that came from.

You know, that's been happening a lot lately! It seems like whenever I'm in the middle of a happy moment or when I find I'm at peace the most, my mind wanders to Freddie somehow. I don't know when it started and I can't figure out why I'd necessarily want him around above anyone else. Maybe it's because whenever I'm happiest I want my best friends around me. But if that were true, then shouldn't I be wishing for Freddie _and_ Sam to be here? I mean, I miss Sam, too, but not in the same why, I don't think…

…This is getting too confusing. And it _shouldn't_ because Freddie is just my _friend_! The only reason I miss him differently than Sam is because they're two different people. Sam brings out the crazy and impulsive side of me. She's fun, spontaneous, daring, and so brave. She's always around when I'm laughing the hardest and, of course, whenever I'm in the most trouble.

Freddie's different, though. He's sweet and down to earth and always wants the best for me; for all of us, really. We laugh together, too, but he's the friend that I can have around when I just feel like sitting in silence. It's never awkward or forced, it's just…

…Peaceful.

I wonder what part of the woods he's in right now. A part of me wants to go look for him. Maybe he's having more luck finding some of these plants than I am.

Maybe I'd have a little more luck if I wasn't sitting on this log, thinking about my best friend. And he's just that. He's just my best friend. Right? It's natural to want your best friend around you.

And sure, he's gotten a little cuter. Puberty does that to all of us! Nothing to write home about, right?

_Right?_

I'm jogged out of my train of thought with the sound of crunchy leaves beneath heavy footsteps from a distance.

"CAAAAAAARRRRLLYYYYY?"

I turn around to find Freddie walking in my direction, but not noticing me on the log just a few yards ahead of him.

"OVER HEEEERE!" I stand and wave my arms, even though it probably isn't necessary. I'm sure my electric pink top stands out against the earthy backdrop. He smirks and makes his way toward me. The rolled up pamphlet in Freddie's hand makes me think he's had just about as much luck finding some of the foliage as I did.

"I see you're hard at work there, Carly," he jokes. "C'mon. We should get back to the tent. It looks like it's about to rain pretty badly."

I look up at the sky again. I don't know how I missed the looming gray clouds that have appeared during my time out here, but he's right. It looks pretty bad. I get up, wipe the back of my jeans, and join Freddie as we trek back to the site.

"So, what were you doing out here all this time?" Freddie asked.

I don't know how to answer that. I very well can't say _'Oh, nothing. Just thinking about how much I've been thinking about you lately.' _No, that won't be good.

"Nothing," I shrug. "Just getting a little lost."


	4. Red

**WARNING: This drabble is rated T for language.**

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"Carly, will you PLEASE just calm down and listen -"

"-DON'T you DARE tell me to 'calm down,' Fredward Benson! I know what I saw!"

In the back of his head, he knew the people in the neighboring dorm rooms could hear them shouting for the past half hour, but he didn't care at the moment. His primary concern was to calm down his mess of a girlfriend. Her eyes bloodshot and her cheeks flustered, Freddie had not seen her this upset in a very long time and out of the few times he had, it was never directed towards him. This was new. New and, in his eyes, ridiculous. If she would just calm down then she would realize that this was just a huge misunderstanding and not even close to what she's concluded this to be.

"No, you really don't," Freddie countered. "It was only a hug goodbye. That's it! I just hugged a friend like I would Sam or Gibby, even!"

"Wendy is not Sam nor Gibby! And it didn't look like just a hug to me!" Carly folded her arms over her chest and planted her feet, as if she were preparing for battle. "And don't think for _one second _that I don't know about that crush you had on her!"

"Oh, my God, Carly, I was THIRTEEN!" Freddie shouted, baffled that he was being punished for an inconsequential crush he had almost seven years ago. "And mind you, it wasn't a big crush, even. I just thought she was cute! And if you remember correctly, I spent most of that year, and many subsequent years, confessing my love for YOU, so why the hell does it even matter?" Freddie thought he may have trumped her with that point, but Carly was prepared.

"It matters," Carly began, in an eerily calm voice, "because when we were thirteen, Wendy wasn't walking around with floatation devices as breasts and a perfect little butt that I caught you staring at when she got in her car!"

"I wasn't staring at any part of her, whatsoever!" Freddie denied. He noted the volume of his voice and decided to take a different approach. He took a step towards Carly and looked into her red, puffy eyes, silently pleading for her to listen to reason.

"Carly," he said calmly, "I could never be unfaithful to you. Never. I would _never_ do that and Wendy wouldn't ever do that to you, neither. She's been our friend for years!"

"Oh! So now you're defending her!" Carly accused with a raised voice.

"I'm not defending her, baby, I'm defending ME," Freddie could hear his voice raising again, but he was unable to hinder it. "Like I have been for the past 45 GODDAMN MINUTES!"

"You are in NO position to yell at me, dammit, you're the one in trouble here!"

"Why?" Freddie asked, flailing his arms out of frustration. "Why am I in trouble? Where is this coming from? Is this the product of some deep-seated insecurities you've always had towards her, because if it is, Carly, you really, _really_ don't have a thing to worry about!" Freddie took another step forward and firmly grabbed her shoulders and resumed reasoning with her in a softer tone when he saw that her eyes have gotten redder. "Don't I tell you every day that I find you to be the most beautiful girl in the world? It's not some lip service I'm feeding you, it's the honest-to-God truth. Wendy is no threat, whatsoever!"

Carly looked into his eyes with a hardened look. "Freddie, this would be so much easier if you would just admit that you cheated."

Freddie immediately let go of her shoulders in fear that he would shake her. He could feel his blood boiling. All he could see was red. Any control he had was lost.

"This. Is. Such. BULLSHIT! I didn't cheat, Carly!"

"No, YOU cut the BULLSHIT and just be real with me!"

"I've been NOTHING but faithful to you and you know it! Why is it so damn hard to believe that?"

"Why is it so hard to believe that you would prefer some fiery, Playboy Bunny-looking bombshell over me?"

"BECAUSE SHE NOT THE ONE I WANT TO GIVE MY FUCKING LAST NAME TO, CARLY, YOU ARE!"

Carly stood rooted in her spot, shell-shocked. Freddie's bellowing had caused his entire face to glow crimson and his breath to escape in pants. There was a glimmer of regret mingled with anger and sadness in his eyes. He slowly took a seat on the nearest couch and hunched over, his elbows on his knees and his head cradled in his hands. Carly took a seat next to him, slightly shaken and staring forward. That sat in silence for an uncertain amount of time.

"That, umm…" Freddie tried clearing his throat as he lifted his head. "That wasn't a proposal, you know. I just - "

"-No, I know" Carly assured quietly, nodding her head.

"I know we haven't talked about forever with us," Freddie said, not much above a whisper, "but I just figured that it was always kind of implied, you know?"

Carly could hear his voice, hoarse and thick with tears. He sounded so broken, and she hated herself for allowing her insecurities to do that to him. She knew that what they had was the real thing, and suddenly the idea of him ever stepping out of the relationship for even a second seemed preposterous to her.

"It was, Freddie. It absolutely was."

Freddie turned to Carly, meeting her bloodshot eyes with his own. "Carls, she doesn't hold a candle to you. No woman does. I love you so much and I can't believe that after all this time you would doubt that." The anger that was in his voice earlier was no longer there, but replaced by unmitigated pain. Carly's shoulders began to shake, wracked with sobs. She immediately covered her face with both hands, ashamed that she had allowed her mind to go to such a dark place.

"I'm s-so s-s-sorry, Freddie," she sputtered. He scooted closer to her, the arm closest to her outstretched, and she immediately collapsed into his embrace. He rubbed her back with one hand and tangled the other into her raven hair, pulling her head closer to his chest, muffling her sobs.

"It's alright, baby, shhh" he tried to mollify her.

Carly shook her head, wide-eyed with disbelief. "I can't believe I would even think for a second -"

"-it's done with," Freddie interrupted firmly. He didn't want this to lead to her beating herself up. "Just know that I could never do that to you. You're my forever. Do you understand?" He pulled away slightly in order to take her chin in between his thumb and forefinger and gentle tilt her head upward, forcing her to meet his eyes. She could see the unshed tears in his brown eyes and she felt her heart crack just a little more.

"You're it for me," he said softly with a slightly watery smile. "And when the time comes for me to get on bended knee and make it official, I need you to know that it's genuine. I couldn't be with anyone else. I can't even entertain the thought."

"Neither could I," she promised. She reached a hand to Freddie face to wipe the lone tear that had just managed to escape to his cheek. She let out a brief chuckle. "I think my love for you is finally driving me crazy!"

He sighed and placed a gently kiss on her forehead, then replied, "Maybe just a little."

She gave him a playful punch in the shoulder as he laughed. Then he cradled her face in both of his hands and gave her a kiss that drove any trace of doubt away from her mind, for good.

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**A/N: Thanks for continuing to read, you guys! I'm noticing the drabbles are getting a bit longer each time (Hahaha!). I'll try to control that. Thanks so much for the reviews, especially for those that still had positive things to say about the last chapter, despite the typos! I'll slow down, I promise. :o)**

**Hollaatchyagirl,**

**Phunky**


	5. Orange

I dubbed our game "Assassin Part Deux: The Epic Rematch."

And I was whooping butt, just like the last time.

Carly was out the first day, thanks to Spencer, who got her right after we had wrapped the latest iCarly. I got Gibby in the back of the head at school during English (the resulting detention was well worth it). Freddie was my latest fatality, and it was awesome.

I hid behind the kitchen counter in the Shay's apartment, knowing he would eventually visit. I barely had to wait ten minutes before the nub strolled through the door and I launched a bullet of paint right to the dome. BAM! A splatter of paint the size and color of a small tangerine across the forehead marked my opponent as D.O.A.

Mama plays to win.

"OOOOWWW," he moaned. I know it had to hurt. I mean, I wouldn't know _personally_, since I rocked during the last game, too, but I could imagine.

"Oh, quit blubbering, you big baby," I said dismissively. Freddie let out some sort of strangled growl and marched his way up the stairs. I waited a moment or two before I quietly tailed him. I knew Carly was upstairs in the studio and I'm sure she heard him yell. I skulk around the corner and I hear Freddie mumble something indistinct as he disappears into the upstairs bathroom with Carly on his heels. The door remains open only by a little crack, so I sneak a little closer until I'm able to peer inside through it. I can see their reflections on the mirror to the left side, Freddie is sitting on the closed toilet lid and Carly is dampening a wash cloth and approaching the paint splatter on Freddie's head.

"Sam's work, I'm guessing" she says with amusement.

"Does she always have to go for the forehead?" Freddie cries.

Yes. Yes, I do.

I watch Carly giggle as she begins wiping the paint off of his head. "Just hold still, sweetie," she instructs softly. He places a hand on her hip and a small smirk appears on that stupid face of his.

These two think they're so damn slick.

I don't know when they started dating, but my guess would be about a week and a half ago. That's when they started acting weird: the whispering, the flustered looks, sneaking around corners to do God knows what. Whatever the case, they decided not to tell me about them just yet, which should piss me off, but I honestly can't blame them. I do pick on Freddie a lot and I haven't been the most supportive friend to Carls whenever she wanted to talk about her feelings towards him.

The truth is that I was against the idea at first. I liked the dynamic the three of us had and I didn't want that to change. Mainly, I didn't want to be left behind. I can, however, see how happy they make each other, and I truly want that for the both of them.

Yes, I even want happiness for Freddie. Despite the torture I gladly deliver to him on a daily basis, he's still one of my best friends. I want him to be happy and I'm perfectly willing to set aside my own insecurities in our group's friendship to allow for that, just like I would for Carly.

It would probably help if I told them that, but it's hard, you know?

Carly carefully wipes the paint off of Freddie's face, then returns to the faucet to rinse what she can out of the cloth. "Maybe you should just accept that you're no good at this game, Freddie."

Freddie shrugs. "Well, we both know that I'm a lover, not a fighter," he says with a raised eyebrow as he pulls Carly closer to where he's sitting. She leans down with that gross look in her eyes, which I take as my cue to haul ass. I'm supportive, sure, but my stomach can only handle so much.

I'm certain they'll tell me about their relationship one day, and when that day comes I'll be super supportive…right after I make fun of them for about an hour.

Baby steps, my friends, baby steps.

Well, I better go hunt down Spencer and put him out of his misery. Or I may just let him catch me. Who knows? Maybe I'll have my own Shay nursing me back to health by the end of the evening…


	6. Black

**Disclaimer: I do not own iCarly. In addition, this drabble is rated T for themes.**

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If you had asked him before tonight what the color black meant to him, Fredward Benson would have given you the usual textbook answer: Death.

Finality.

The end.

Tonight, however, black stirred memories of the contradictory. Tonight, black signified life.

It was the color of the university's graduation caps and gowns he and Carly were wearing when he got on bended knee.

It was the color of the limousine that whisked them away from the reception hall to start their newly conjoined lives.

More importantly, it was the color of the lacy boy shorts and accompanying bra she chose to wear especially for him at this juncture in time.

And during each of those moments he was continuously reminded that he was alive:

Each time, he registered his impossibly quick heartbeat.

His fiery blood coursing through his veins.

The steady drum of his pulse and the breaths that would often come short before he was successfully able to steady them.

Yes, Freddie was alive, indeed…and as far as he was concerned, he had black to thank.

And as the stunning brunette sauntered her way to her waiting beloved, who was sitting at the edge of their honeymoon bed, he silently expressed gratitude to the color black for being such a beacon of life and new beginnings. She paused before him with an expression filled with love, devotion, and desire as she gently stroked his cheeks. He turned his head slightly to each side, placing a soft kiss upon each of her palms. As she moved to straddle his lap, his thumbs grazed the edge of her shorts as his eyes drank in the beauty, _his_ beauty, encased in black. When she finally settled down on top of him, bring him ever closer to her, he could distinctly hear her racing heartbeat. She was alive, as well.

"Well, hello, Mrs. Fredward Benson," he beams.

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**A/N: I just wanted to send an appreciative shout out to Carl Rahl, sockstar, and purpleheart10, who have been consistently supportive throughout this project. It's always appreciated and such a great source of inspiration, you guys. I'd also like to thank all the others who have reviewed thus far! It means so much to me that you would not only take a moment to read my writing, but that you'd take an additional moment to offer a word of encouragement. Lots of love to you all! And for those of you just reading, thank you, as well! Please continue to send reviews, as they really make my day!**

**Hottaatchyagirl,**

**Phunky**


	7. Purple

When they were 12, he told her about a book that his grandfather used to read to him as a little kid called _The Purple Penguin._ It was a story of a penguin named Perry who lives in the Arctic and is ridiculed because he was different from the other penguins. Luckily, a beautiful female penguin, Penelope, befriends him, to the dismay of her many penguin suitors. One day, the purple penguin stumbles upon a small magic stone that would turn his garish purple coat into a beautiful black and white when held, allowing him to blend in with the rest of the flock. When the young penguin speaks to his grandfather about the stone, the elderly penguin informs him that the stone is legendary and that he is able to make the change permanent if he swallows it whole. Just as he is about to ingest the magical stone, Penelope appears to stop him, confessing that she loves him as he is and would never want him to blend with the rest. Overjoyed, Perry throws away the stone and he and Penelope go on to mate and bear a new breed of loveable lilac-hued penguins.

He loved that book so much as a little boy and even slept with a copy of it at his bedside each night until he was nine, but his mother accidentally threw it away, as it was tattered and she was terrified that the book housed a plethora of germs. He hasn't had any luck finding another copy of The Purple Penguin, but he is still able to recite the story almost word for word to this day.

The morning of his 15th birthday he prepared to pay her a visit. When he opened the door, however, he was halted by a pristinely wrapped box with a small tag that read "To Freddie" tucked under a large bow. A smile slowly spread across his face, as he only knew one person, other than his mother, who would take such care in wrapping a gift. He carefully unwrapped the box and lifted the lid. Inside was something heavily wrapped in white glittery tissue paper.

When he tore away the paper, he found an original edition of _The Purple Penguin_, just as he had remembered it looking all those years ago.

He felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him. He gently ran his fingers over the worn, leathery cover and broken in binding, hardly believing that he had the book in his possession once again. Though it was not his original copy, it still jolted memories of his grandfather, who had passed away almost two years ago. Though he missed him terribly, his elation over the gift outweighed any sadness he may have felt at the moment. He was so excited that he almost overlooked the modest birthday card at the bottom of the box, once hidden by the book. On its cover was a picture of a penguin wearing a birthday hat, flapping his wings and shouting "Happy Birthday!" with excitement. He laughed at the sheer adorableness of it as he opened the card, only to find a handwritten note in tiny, immaculate writing:

_Dear Freddie,_

_HAPPY BIRTHDAY! I wanted to get this for your 13th B-day, but I had trouble finding it. Thank goodness for online shopping! Anyways, I know you may be too old to enjoy it now, but the look on your face when told the story of your grandfather reading it to you still sticks with me. It was obviously special to you and I hope it still brings great memories!_

_Lots of love,_

_Carly_

_P.S.- If you need someone to read it to you, I'm right across the hall. Call me anytime. :o)_

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**A/N: "The Purple Penguin" is not modeled after any specific children's story/book and any resemblances it shares with any published work is purely coincidental. Also, thank you for reading!**


	8. White

**Disclaimer: I do not own iCarly.**

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I wouldn't call my little sister "emotional." That word is usually used to describe the weak or dramatic, and Carly is neither of those. I would say, however, that certain emotions affect her more than others. When she's happy, she's actually ecstatic. When she's sad, she's devastated. She just…feels things harder than most people.

So when our dad was killed in an aviation accident, I wasn't surprised by her screaming, nor hysterics, nor reoccurring catatonic behavior. It only confirmed what I immediately knew when I received the news: I was going to have to be so much more than just a source of strength for her. I was going to have to be rock solid.

Don't get me wrong; I had a moment or two when I lost control. I yelled, I smashed things, I walked around angry at everyone and everything…between you and me, I was a mess. Just not in front of Carly. She needed me to be so much stronger than I was. Though I was determined, I just did not have the emotional capacity to look after her, the way she deserved, solely on my own.

I tell you all of this because, despite our family's tragedy, my sister is the luckiest girl in the world to have Sam and Freddie by her side. They've been so incredible throughout this entire thing, looking after her and keeping her company, especially during the times I needed to sneak away and just break down. During the service, each friend flanked her sides, Sam to her left with her arm around Carly's waist and Freddie to her right, gently stroking her hair. She had cried so much during the days leading to the funeral that I was convinced there was nothing left. Her face was absolutely blank, but she was clinging to the both of them so tightly that her knuckles were white. Even Gibby stood behind her, patting her shoulders. They remained clutched to her as she dropped the white rose in the plot. I'm not sure she would have been able to remain standing on her own two feet without them. Her anchors in the turbulent sea…she really is the luckiest girls in the world.

* * *

All of the attendants came to our apartment following the service. I was hesitant, you know, with all the people so eager to console Carly and I. I thought it may be too much for her. Luckily, her friends were there to navigate her through the overly grabby relatives, the awkward colleagues, and the concerned neighbors. She would occasionally look my way, silently letting me know how much she wished she could crumble. She plowed through, however, putting on a brave face throughout. Her friends remained faithfully by her side the entire reception.

As I cleaned up the apartment, I felt the need to check on my sister. Sam was passed out on the couch and Gibby had drifted off to sleep in the arm chair. I was headed upstairs when I suddenly remembered the place she seems to gravitate to whenever she's ready to fall apart…and I was willing to bet money that she was with the person who always seemed ready to put her back together again.

* * *

When I reached the roof, I was happy to see that I was correct in my suspicions. There on an outstretched quilt were Carly, shaken with sobs, and Freddie, who silently held her and rocked her gently. He pressed a kiss to her temple, then buried his nose into her hair. She clings tightly to his frame, just as she did during the service. He's whispering something to her, which I can't make out, but whatever it is it seems to calm her down a little. He places another kiss in her hair as her crying subsides. Freddie always had a way of putting her at ease. One time, I jokingly called him the Carly Whisperer. I'm not so sure that's a joke anymore.

I don't know whether or not they are together. Truthfully, I don't think they know, either. It's evident that they care a hell of a lot about each other, though, and if I trusted my little sister's heart with anyone, it would be Freddie, hands down. I'm beginning to think that she feels the same way.

I smile and slowly back away from the scene, leaving them to their privacy. I descend the stairs, beyond grateful that my sister has such amazing, loving people in her life. The image of her clinging to Freddie, knuckles white, remains with me for a while, only intensified by the sight of Freddie clutching back just as fiercely.

Her friends, always ready to put her back together again, to catch her when she falls. To keep her going when she is no longer able to stand on her own.

Despite everything, Carly is one lucky girl.


	9. Yellow

I'm flying down the interstate so fast, it's a miracle that I haven't managed to get pulled over. The speedometer says I'm going 88 MPH, yet I still feel like I'm not going fast enough. '_Alright, calm down_,' I think to myself. '_If it were a major emergency, wouldn't you be meeting her at the hospital instead of the house?_' Logic aside, I'm still freaking out. My wife is not one to call something an "emergency" unless it actually is. I reach a red light and pull out my phone to review the text.

**From: Carly Bear**

**911! MAJOR EMERGENCY!  
GET HOME QUICK!  
**

**Aug 21, 3:06 pm**

The fact that she didn't pick up the phone when I called just before leaving work early worried me further.

After managing to get home in a matter of 20 minutes (mind you, this is typically a 35-minute trip), I burst through the door, greeted by a silent house.

"CARLY?" I yell.

I hear an unintelligible response from the only lit room at the end of the hallway to the left. I barrel down the hallway and swing the door open, where I was met with quite a sight.

Sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bare room is my wife, sobbing heavily. She doesn't appear to be injured, which gives me major relief. She is, however, surrounded by strips of colored paper, which look like paint samples from the local hardware store. All of the strips seems to be varying shades of yellow. Both of her hands are propped on her swollen belly, loosely holding some of the strips. She looks up at me with her wet brown eyes, trying to reign in her sobs long enough to speak.

"Th-the idiot p-painters used the w-wrong c-c-colorrrr!" she choked out, breaking into renewed sobs. I let out the breath that I've been holding since I received the text. She's done an amazing job keeping her hormonal mood swings in check, but occasionally there are moments like this, where the smallest thing bring her to tears. I hate to see her so upset, but I can't help but regard this scene, a sobbing Carly with watery puppy dog eyes while surrounded by squares of yellow paper in an otherwise empty room, as a mixture of funny, pitiable, and extremely adorable. I know better than to laugh, though, as this is obviously important to her. I take a step forward and kneel down in front of her, pressing a kiss to her forehead as I wipe the tears off her cheeks.

"Baby, the room looks amazing! What do you mean?" I ask in the softest voice possible.

"No, Freddie, it's c-crap!" Carly insists. She holds up the color sample in her right hand. "They were supposed to paint the room this color here. See? 'Sunnyside Lane.'" Carly's thumb is on the square of the intended room color. "Instead, the painters used this," she says, waiving her left hand, with her thumb on what I assume is the offensive hue. "Babouche! Our baby is supposed to have a room with Sunnyside Lane walls! BABOUCHE? I can barely pronounce it!" Carly throws the samples on the floor with the others and crosses her arms over her belly. I look at the two colors closely. Maybe it's just me, but I don't see the difference. At all. The Sunny Lane whatever color may be a little brighter than the other one, but it's too close to tell. How do I approach this without getting my head ripped off?

"Umm, sweetie? Help me out here. Is there a major difference between the two?" I ask. Carly looks at me as if I'm a monster.

"Sunnyside Lane is so much brighter than Babouche!" she says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "Remember what the article in the baby magazine said? Bright colors are better for the baby's brain development! This," she spat, with her flailing arms indicating the newly painted walls, "is not bright enough! Our baby is going to have the wrong-colored walls and his brain isn't going to develop well enough and he'll grow up to be dumb and fail most of his classes and get mixed up with the wrong crowd and never know how to do math properly and join a gang and everyone's going to call me a bad moootheeerrrr!" Carly vents her worries in one breath and finishes strong with a fresh round of sobs. I wrap her in my arms as she buries her head in my chest, her cries causing hiccups. I attempt to calm her down by stroking her hair. I can't get over how insanely adorable she is.

"Carls, you have absolute nothi-" I'm stopped by a sudden realization.

She said that he'll grow up to be dumb and fail most of his classes.

He'll. _His_.

"Carly," I say slowly, "what did you say about _him _failing his classes?"

She lift her face to make eye contact with me, awarding me with a watery smile.

"A boy, Freddie."

This lovely, extraordinary, incredible gift of a woman is going to give me a boy. I'm going to have a son.

If not for my son growing inside her I would squeeze and kiss her until she begged for mercy. I settle for placing a firm searing kiss on her lips, instead. When I pull back, she is beaming, the walls seemingly forgotten.

"I love you," I breath out, "so, so much. You're already being an incredible mother to our son and no amount of paint is going to change that!" I'm fighting back my own tears as I look at my wife. She's so amazing and I can't help but feel incredibly fortunate to be the one to spend the rest of my life thanking her for everything she's giving me, has already given me, and plans to give me in the future. I place my hands on her stomach, amazed that I'll be meeting my son in less than three weeks. My eye catches the paint sample strewn about the floor.

"Sweetheart, the room seriously looks great," I begin with caution, "but if you want, I can stay home tomorrow and paint the room whatever color you'd like. I just want you to be happy."

Carly leans up and softly kisses me. It's amazing how she's still able to bring me to my knees with a simple kiss. It's a good thing I'm sitting on the ground. She pulls back with her trademarked dazzling smile.

"You know what, babe? The color doesn't seem all that bad anymore."

* * *

**A/N: As always, thank you so much for reading. I wanted to send a quick shout out to RemDiamond for being so supportive of this project, as well as some of my other work! I appreciate it!**

**Also, aside from the pending pink and gray chapters, I believe I am out of colors! Are there any suggestions for some simple colors I may be overlooking? I don't really want to do arbitrary colors (i.e. cerulean or forest green), but if there is a basic or simple color that I'm missing, I'd appreciate it if someone would let me know!**

**Thanks for your time and continued reviews!**

**Hollaatchyagirl,**

**Phunky**


	10. Gray

**Disclaimer: iDon't own iCarly. Also, this ficlet is rated T for themes.**

* * *

I live for rainy days. That wasn't always the case; I used to find excitement in the sunny afternoons that allowed for bike rides and trips to the pool, but at the age of 21 I found that stormy days were, indeed, the best. I blame Freddie entirely.

It started with a rained out picnic date, which left us twiddling our thumbs in my Seattle studio apartment close to campus. Always the makeshift romantic, Freddie grabbed the blanket we were to use in the park and spread it across the empty space by the large window. With the apartment bathed in dim light, he grabbed a nearby lighter and lit the candles I had on various counters and end tables around the living room.

"I've been dying to spend some alone time with you all week,' he confesses, as he removes some of the items in the mini cooler. "I'm not about to let a little rain wash out our plans…pun totally intended."

I laughed at his adorably corny joke as I grabbed the bottle of wine from the cooler and uncorked it with the accompanying corkscrew. We continued our picnic in my living room, eating and watching the raindrops dance across my window pane. We talked a little about our anxiety towards upcoming mid-terms, which led to us talking about how much we missed each other. Of course, that paved the way for fevered kisses, caresses, and, quite swiftly, me being carried the short distance to my bed, where we proceeded to show each other just how much we missed the other's company.

Rainy Dates sort of turned into an unspoken agreement between us. When the forecast spoke of rainy or stormy weather (which was often the case in Seattle), we would barricade ourselves in either his or my apartment with food, a bottle of wine, a cozy blanket, and as of lately, a wireless PearPod dock that would add a certain ambiance of two hopelessly in love adults, trying desperately to create their own little world. It was never a question of whether or not we were available; we always made time on those occasions.

* * *

Yesterday afternoon was kind of a surprise. Earlier in the week, the forecast predicted mildly sunny weather for the weekend. Freddie called me at 1:25 p.m., just as I was wrapping up an essay for my Textiles 3100 class, to let me know that he spotted dark clouds where I was and was coming over with take-out from my favorite Greek restaurant around the corner from my building. When I drew back the curtains, I immediately spotted the gray clouds floating just above, and I could barely contain the excited smile that manifested on my face.

We huddled closely under my sheets hours later, food devoured, wine bottle close to empty and all of our clothes discarded about the room while the storm and the Maroon 5 ballad from the PearPod deck converged into beautifully distant background noise. My arm was wrapped around his torso while I curled against his side, legs intertwined. One of his arms was wrapped around my shoulders while the other is stretched languidly above his head. This is usually the time when we share things with each other: secrets, unknown facts about ourselves, dreams that we've never uttered to anyone…it amazes me how we've known each other since we were kids, yet there's still so much to learn about each other. I could hear Freddie humming along with the music. I was suddenly struck with a memory.

"Hey, remember Gibby's ex, Tasha?" I asked, lightly pinching his side in order to get his attention.

"Yeah. What about her?" Freddie responded just before placing a kiss in my hair.

"I hated her," I confess. I started tracing random patterns on his bare chest, which felt much harder than it did even two months ago. Though he never talks about it, I think he's been working out. His chest and biceps had become increasingly more defined over the four years we have been together, but even more so lately. I suspect he's been sneaking in workout sessions in between his morning classes.

"Really?" he asked. "Why? She was nice, wasn't she?"

"Oh, yes, she was nice. I was a little jealous of her, though."

I feel the bed shift a little above me and I tilt my head upward to find Freddie staring back at me with a look of confusion and slight bewilderment. I immediately understand the source of his confusion and I rush to dispel any wrong assumptions.

"No, no! I wasn't jealous that she was dating Gibby!" I deny before he can even speak the possibility. He lets out a sigh of relief and I turn my head to lightly kiss his chest. "No, I was jealous of the way you reacted when you first met her. I believe the quote was, 'Where'd he get one of those? I want one of those!' Let me know if I'm mistaken."

He let out a deep chuckle, which I could feel rumbling through his chest. "I was just shocked that Gibby was able to pull that off, that's all. You were, and still are, way hotter than her."

"Well, it was just so soon after we broke up that I thought that you had already moved on," I shrugged. "I wasn't sure of how I felt about us yet, but I knew that I didn't like the way you looked at her and I just wanted to break her ankles so she could never saunter into our studio again." After I said it, I felt so silly. Freddie didn't laugh, though. He just tilted my head upward and kissed me on my lips.

"I've found someone way more amazing than Tasha, or any other woman, could ever hope to be," he says with a that dreamy half smirk does, which makes it so hard not to pounce on him again. "You have no competition, believe me."

I smiled. Have I mentioned how much I love this man?

"Speaking of competition," Freddie continues as he pulls me closer against him. "Soooo…a few months ago my news feeds on my SplashFace page informed me that you added Adam as a friend."

Oh, no. Adam was a guy I had a small crush on when I was sixteen. Freddie couldn't possibly still be jealous of him, could he?

"Freddie," I said gently as I lifted my head and propped it on my elbow so that I could make eye contact with him. "Is our SplashFace friendship going to be a problem? Because I can remove him-"

"No, baby, that's not necessary," he interrupted, shaking his head as if to assure me that the notion was ridiculous. "I'll admit, I was just a teeny bit jealous, though. Then I went through some of his photos and noticed how…athletic…he looked." Even through the dim light I still noticed the slight blush across his cheeks. He was right; Adam was definitely looking buff lately, which I'm sure could be attributed to the fact that he was on the tennis team at his university. I noticed, yeah, but Freddie is my world. I could never look at anyone else the way I look at him. I was about to tell him this, but he continued before I could.

"Well, at first I ignored it, but then I kept wondering what you thought about his body. Then the wondering turned to jealousy. Next thing I knew, I hopped in my car and headed to the campus gym. I've been working out ever since."

I knew it! Of course, he'd been working out. I just didn't know that Adam was the catalyst for this sudden change. I know I have insecurities still lingering from high school, but I didn't think Freddie still worried about that after so many years of being together.

I felt such a rush of affection for the man laying with me that I grabbed his face with both hands and firmly kissed him on his lips. I could feel his arms wrap around my waist as he pulled me until I was laying on top of him. Pressed against him, skin against skin, I felt my body heat up very quickly and I knew I had to stop myself before things escalated beyond control, as they often did. I looked down at him, determined to make him understand that he had nothing to worry about.

"Babe, I love you. You could have a pot belly and a receding hairline and you would still be the only one for me," I assured him as my thumbs brushed his cheeks. Then I kissed him on his cheek just before I leaned in to whisper in his ear, "For the record, though: you look delicious. You have no competition, believe me."

Recognizing his own words flipped back on him, he returned my smile with his own and tilted his head to kiss me once again. He only managed to mutter "I love you" against my lips before I nibbled on his bottom lip and trailed soft kisses across his jaw line, allowing the pounding storm to guide us as we express with our bodies what we are unable to with our words.

* * *

Looking up at the sky now I can see the gray clouds arriving, just as last night's forecast said they would. My phone vibrates with a text from Freddie.

**From: Freddie Bear**

**My place this time?**  
**Wine's already in the fridge. ;)**

**Apr 03, 12:21 pm**

Today's going to be an excellent day.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading! What do you think? A review is the simplest way to make my day. :o)**

**Hollaatchyagirl,**

**Phunky**


	11. Pink

The irony was not lost on him.

He had spent the entirety of his day avoiding her. He ignored her calls, didn't answer the door when she knocked, and denied her video chat requests. The effort that all this required was taxing. He could set up a new server and defragment a hard drive without breaking a sweat, but avoiding Carly Shay? Absolutely tiresome. He needed to take a breather. Without a second thought, he made his way one of his favorite places to collect himself, other than the iCarly studio: the roof.

Where's the irony, you ask?

The same brunette he had spent his day avoiding was the same brunette who needed a bit of fresh air herself. There she stood, in her strapless fuchsia pink floor-length gown, hair cascading down her back in thick waves, and just a hint of make-up to accentuate her natural beauty. His attempt to back away from the roof's entrance undetected was apparently a failure, because he heard his name just as turned around.

"Freddie, there you are!"

The boy turned around, silently wishing for the power of invisibility. He took a few begrudged steps forward.

"Hey, Carly. Heading to prom soon?"

"Yeah, I'm just waiting for Andre to pick me up. What is your problem today?" she asked without missing a beat. He somehow missed the look of unmitigated irritation in her expression the first time he saw her, but it was clear a crystal now. It was obvious that she was aware of his day-long disappearing act.

"Carly, I just needed some space, that's all."

"SPACE?" Carly yelled, "Freddie, what did I do? Seriously, tell me, because I've been trying to figure it out all day!"

Freddie instantly felt exasperated. Any fight he may have had in him died the day she told him that Andre had invited her to his Senior prom, excitement evident in her voice. Right now, he felt an odd mixture of defiance and defeat: willing to admit he was beaten, but not feeling as if he owed her any sort of explanation for his absence.

"Look," he sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose, "just…don't worry about it. Have a great time tonight, alright?"

He wondered briefly if his voice sounded as malicious to her as it did to him in that moment. It was a thought that stemmed from curiosity, though, not guilt.

With a deflated look of defeat, she removed her phone from her clutch and glanced at the screen.

"It looks like Andre's here," she said, waving the screen in Freddie's direction as if to prove her claim. He didn't respond. She walked past him and was just out the door when she turned around, or at least he thinks she did. He refused to face her.

"Whatever it is," Carly said, just above a whisper, "just tell me what I have to do to fix it."

He hesitated just before he turned around, only to see her vanish in a flurry of pink. What he missed was her final look of desperation just before she walked away.

He exhaled and numbly walked towards to the ledge, looking over the city. Then he said, to nobody in particular, "You can start by not leaving on another man's arm."

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for the your time and thanks in advance for your reviews! If you all could do me a favor and let me know how I can get my stories posted in the Creddie communities, I would greatly appreciate. I would really love for others to read my writing and I get a suspicious feeling that only a handful of people are reading my stuff, based on my reviews (although I do love the core group of readers dearly! Seriously, you guys are amazing and incredibly supportive!). Thank you all for everything!**

**Hollaatchyagirl,**

**Phunky**


	12. Silver & Gold

There are moments when being the oldest of the Benson clan has its perks. I wouldn't classify now as one of those moments. Instead of coasting until our parents' 50th anniversary party, I have been elected to not only make a speech for the big toast, but I must also write a dedication for the program. Can't I just focus on what I'm going to wear and show up the day of the party to help set up, like the rest of my brothers and sisters?

No matter. I love my parents dearly, so I don't mind saying a few good words about the happy couple. I guess the problem I'm having is that I can't choose from the hundreds (literally, _hundreds_) of stories that I have locked away in my memory. It shouldn't be so hard to write something nice about my mom and dad, but I don't just want to write something "nice." I want to write something that fully embodies them as a couple: fun, caring, loving, supportive, and just inherently good. They deserve at least that much.

I could tell one of the many stories our mom told us growing up. We were constantly entertained with stories from the lively days of their major internet show, their many schemes with Uncle Spencer, Aunt Sam, and Uncle Gibby, and their courting days. The problem with that, though, is that most of the people coming to the party were there for many of those moments and I probably wouldn't do them justice. Besides, a lot of the stories Mom likes to tell are adorable to the point of nausea (honestly, the tale of "cukey" made me feel a little pukey).

Maybe I could talk about how little our dad has changed since meeting our mom. He's still a perfect gentleman, opening doors and pulling out chairs for her, and he was adamant about instilling those same mannerisms in my brothers and I because he wanted us to be "worthy enough" to marry women like our mother. To this day you can still catch him staring at our mother with such awe that it sometimes brings tears to my eyes. However, while it's all very touching, I think I want to talk about how they work as a couple, rather than how much one loves the other.

I could definitely talk about how incredibly supportive they are as a unit. A good example would be the time I decided to come out to them. When I told them that I was gay, the first thing they did was, wordlessly, stand up and enveloped me between them in a big group hug. My mother kissed my forehead and told me that she and Dad loved me more than anything and would continue to do so as long as they lived. I turned to my dad and he looked at me with that damn smirk of his and said, half-jokingly, "Now, don't think that this excuses you from acting like a gentleman, like I taught you, Eric, Carter. I'm expecting you to bring a respectable young man home to meet us and you can't manage that by acting like a slob!" My mom gently scolded him while he laughed and kissed my cheek. My heart still bursts with love for them whenever I think about that story. When I told it to my partner some years ago, he thought that it was the perfect story to tell on a day like their golden anniversary…but the day is about them, not me.

Thinking about them, I instantly think about how much they inspire my me and my siblings to love each other and our own families with everything we've got. I think of how the growing trend of divorce has almost made golden anniversaries an endangered occasion, yet here Freddie and Carly Benson stand, hand in hand, showing the world that sticking by your one true love and loving them unconditionally isn't nearly as hard as society makes it seem. I'm continually amazed at how their love has spread like a wildfire amongst our family, inspiring us to branch out and dare to find true love on our own, resulting in a gaggle of nieces and nephews and my own two children.

So many amazing, tender moments to choose from. How am I possible going to be able to narrow it down? What is the image of them that I'm trying to convey?

As I continue to plow through my writer's block, I step onto the back porch where I find the happy couple, asleep and cuddled closely on the porch swing. At 74-years-old they both look as young as they dare, only foiled by their silver-streaked hair. My father has an arm wrapped around my mother's shoulders while her head rests on his chest. His other hand is intertwined with hers as a hint of a smile plays on both of their lips. I adore how much their love for each other shines so brightly, even as they sleep…like it takes no effort at all.

That's it.

I rush back to my father's old home office and immediately start writing before I forget the dedication that has practically written itself. With my pen poised, I begin to write.

_**50 Year of Love: Golden and Effortless**_

_**For Fredward and Carly Benson**_

**By: Fredward A. Benson, Jr.**

**

* * *

**

**A/N: I hope you all enjoyed this installment! I want to thank sockstar for suggesting the colors that inspired this story! Thanks to those who have read, reviewed, and added this story to their favorites!**

**Warning: the next drabble or ficlet will be the final one for this collection! Just thought I'd give you all a heads up. It should be posted tomorrow!**

**I love you all! Please don't forget to review!**

**Hollaatchyagirl,**

**Phunky**


	13. Beige

**Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly.**

* * *

"Ugh! I should have just gotten everyone a gift certificates to MovieRama and just kept my mouth shut!" Carly emphasized her rant with a stomp of her foot and set the palette down on the studio's tech cart. She flounced on the nearest bean bag chair and gingerly rubbed her temples. Why did Freddie's gift have to be so damn hard?

She had been taking art lessons for about two years now and she's become quite good. So good, in fact, that she felt confident enough to paint everyone's Christmas gifts this year. When she ran the idea by her brother and two best friends, they all appeared to really like the idea. She already knew what Spencer's portrait would be. A couple weeks ago, he had been raving about this dream he had involving robots and a trip to Narnia. At some point in the dream, one of the robots fists bumps Aslan as a sign of friendship. It was such a cool visual in Carly's head that she decided to attempt to paint it. The piece actually came out pretty good and she thought it was a great representation of Spencer's over-active imagination.

Sam's picture was even easier than that, as she had a special request. She knew Carly was decent with still life portraits and asked her to paint something similar to the standard bowl of fruit. Instead of fruit, however, she wanted the bowl to be filled with steak, turkey legs, and sausage links. Carly complied and, as a surprise, added a Fat Cake laying seductively in front of the bowl. She couldn't wait to see Sam's face when she saw her gift, as she was betting that it would bring a tear to her eye. She pictured herself painting something a little more symbolic, but in the end, this turned out to be much more fitting for her abrasive friend. Sam liked to keep things simple and straight forward: she wanted her picture to say that she liked meat because…well…she liked meat. Easy as that.

Freddie, on the other hand, just _had_ to be difficult. To be fair, Freddie wasn't the issue. He didn't care what Carly painted, but Carly kept asking him what he wanted. She didn't want to draw a computer or anything like that because she didn't want to reduce him to just some tech enthusiast. He was so much more than that. After asking him what he wanted for the 11th time, he finally just said, "I don't know, Carls. Paint a picture of us, or something. I'm sure it'll be great, whatever you decide."

Which brought her to this moment, staring at the blank canvas with utter perplexity. A picture of them. How many picture have they taken together? A hundred? Thousands, maybe? Why can't she just grab one of the many photos of them just laying around, paint a quasi-replica, and call it a day? Maybe because she can hear a distant, yet very distinct, voice in the recesses of her mind that insist that he deserve more. Though she knew that much, it didn't bring her any closer to knowing what to paint.

Who knew that a blank, beige canvas could be so daunting? Typically, a blank canvas would be so inviting to Carly; a challenge to assault the empty space with merciless creativity. This time, however, the beige just seemed to expand into a sea of absolutely nothing. Did that even make sense? Can you have a sea of nothing? Well, if you could, this would be it. She just wished that she could take a nap while the picture painted itself.

Then she remember her art instructor standing over the class while she advised, "Let your emotions paint the picture, not your hands. Once you give your emotions free reign, they will reward you with a piece of art you'll never forget." At the time, it seemed like the ramblings of your typical hipster art teacher, but now it seemed like genuinely good advice. Carly lifted herself from the chair, picked up the palette, and reclaimed her spot in front of the blank canvas.

"Freddie," she thought. "Freddie, Freddie, what do I think about when I think of Freddie?" She suddenly remembered the pink Converse high top sneakers she was wearing when she met Freddie for the first time at Bushwell Plaza. When she outgrew the shoes and prepared to toss them out, Freddie pointed out that those were the shoes she wore when they met and he admitted, ever so casually, that he would miss them. She didn't say it at the time, but she knew she would miss them, too.

She dipped the brush in the pink and drew two simple horizontal lines.

She thought of the photo that Freddie took of the sky when they were younger. It had started out as a joke during an 8-day streak of classic Seattle rainy weather. There was a day right before another week-long streak when the sky was absolutely clear and a perfect shade of light blue. Carly joked that they should take a picture of the sky while it was beautiful, since there was no telling when they would see good weather next. The next day, there was a Polaroid of a simple, clear blue sky taped to her door with a caption that said," 'Cuz you never know…" She still has that picture in her dresser drawer.

She painted a thick, curved line towards the top in a light blue.

One time he wore a yellow and black striped polo shirt. Sam said he looked like a sad bumble bee. Carly, on the other hand, kind of liked it.

So she painted three heavy black vertical lines and shaded the spaces between with a daffodil yellow.

He had broken his arm once and had to wear a green cast for weeks. When she had signed his cast, she wrote a message that said, "Green is kind of your color! You should act like a stupid boy and get yourself injured more often!" When he read the message, he tipped his head back and let out a gut-busting howl of laughter. Now the color green reminded her of his laugh.

The word "HA!" was painted repeatedly in a randomized pattern, green as grass.

They're the only two people that eat the grape Jolly Ranchers from Spencer's huge stash because they like how the candy turns their tongues such a dark purple. They can't explain why it 's so funny. It just is.

Dots of purple pepper the canvas as the space becomes limited.

He once told her that he thought Wendy of kind of cute.

Carly saturated the brush in red paint and flung the paint with a _SPLAT!_ across the canvas, suddenly feeling a little perturbed.

And then there was that awful Valerie. More red.

_SPLAT!_

Tasha. Sabrina. Shelby Marx. That one slut at that one place they went to.

_SPLAT! SPLAT! SPLAT! SPLATSPLATSPLAT!_

Carly suddenly realized how wound up she had become and took a deep breath. She looked at the work in progress.

Suddenly, she was thinking of his eyes. She didn't know why, she just…could _not_ stop thinking about his eyes. She started to draw two large, serene chocolate brown eyes in the middle of all the chaos. She marveled at how she could use the same shade of brown to draw her own eyes.

The last image came to her almost effortlessly. Around one eye, she drew a heart in orange, which was Freddie's favorite color. Around the other, she drew a heart of purple, her favorite. The hearts interlocked. "_As they probably should be,_" she thought, as she set the palette back on the tech cart.

She took a step back and examined the work. It was pandemonium. No connecting lines or coherent order. Just pair of calm eyes and loving hearts in a world of confusion.

It was perfect.

She was so lost in her creation that she didn't hear the studio door open. Freddie took a soft step inside and watched Carly and the painting. He stood behind her and gently placed his hands on her shoulders. She let out a tiny gasp of surprise and turned around to face Freddie, who's eyes were still trained on the painting. He looked awestruck.

"A picture of us?" he asked simply, with a half smile and a look of wonderment. All she could do was nod in response.

His smile grew. "I love it. I really do," he said, taking a step closer.

She bit her bottom lip, then smiled. "It's the best I've done, honestly." She looked down at the ground, processing how much she has revealed to him today. Looking downward, she sees a pair of arms wrap around her waist. She looks up to find his eyes staring into hers, full of too many emotions to name. He removes a hand from her waist in order to tuck an unruly lock of her hair behind her ear, allowing his hand to linger on her cheek.

In seconds, their lips simply meet. He can understand how she gets her lips to be so incredibly soft. She wonders how long she was able to live life without feeling _this_ safe. They cling to each other, though there is no need as long as neither of them plan to let go. There are no glittery declarations of love because words just get in the way of this breath-taking, Technicolor moment.

Just two hearts and chocolate eyes, shining within chaos.

And beige is long forgotten.

**THE END**

* * *

**A/N: Thank you all SO MUCH for taking the time to read this! And the reviews have been just incredible. It's the one thing that makes all of this work worth it! I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed creating it. Love you all!**

**Hollaatchyagirl,**

**Phunky**


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